In This Way
by Shizuku Tsukishima749
Summary: -HBP Canary Rewrite.- Chancing a glance at Hermione's broken face, my heart plummeted into my stomach. Tears streaked the seventeen-year-old's visage, and I cringed as more of the heartbreaking cries erupted from her constricted throat. Oneshot. HHr


_A/N_: I've been wanting to write an H/Hr oneshot dedicated to the comfort scene in the movie since I saw it a couple of weeks ago, but I didn't get around to it until I read my friend's version yesterday evening (when I started this). I would have finished this earlier, but I got tired last night/this morning (staying up till 4 AM does that...in fact, it's doing it again right now...), and today, I didn't get up until 1 PM and had to read a summer Honors English-required book first (which has homework involved in the near future)... Besides that, I got distracted by other reading, research for this story, and such, considering I haven't read the book and gathered what I could from the memory of the canary book scene, the quote of which I've seen on many an H/Hr fansite (but proved impossible to find this time... Hm...). Anyway, if I got anything wrong as far as the book scene goes, I apologize; I somewhat muddled both the movie and book scene together, just to let you know. Oh, and the theory as to Hermione's crying in this scene belongs to **me**. I thought it up and stuck with it. Hopefully, it makes sense.

_A/N: _For those of you who love the Weasleys (or Lavender or both), I assure you, I am not bashing any of them! It's just for my H/Hr theory's sake!

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In This Way**

Lavender lunged forward suddenly as Ron was set down from atop some of our housemates' shoulders, grabbing him around the neck and proceeding to heatedly snog him in front of everyone. A grin came to my face and a laugh fell from my mouth in surprised shock; I'd known the girl liked him, but I hadn't known she'd liked him _that _much!

I was distracted the next second, the smile wiped clean from my face, as the heat of Hermione's body beside mine disappeared. I turned concernedly around only to catch the tail end of her characteristically bushy hair following her out the Common Room portrait hole, and I pushed through the crowd of Gryffindors to follow anxiously.

I found her in the Charms classroom, empty as Professor Flitwick celebrated Gryffindor's victory in the Quidditch match, no matter that he did not belong to our House. I had heard her sobs even through the closed door and knew she was crying quite hard, as was expected, what with her…her _crush_ just being kissed by another—rather undesirable, in my opinion—girl.

I didn't understand why my thoughts toward Ron had sounded so harsh just then. Perhaps it was because Ron had made Hermione cry more times than I could stomach through these last six years as friends, or perhaps it was because this was the hardest I'd ever heard her cry, and that was something in itself. Whatever the reason, it was blown from my mind immediately as a particularly loud, choked sob wrenched itself from Hermione's throat.

I crept up behind her as slowly as possible, unwilling to scare her, yet so wishing to help her that my need overturned my fear. Stepping up beside her, she seemed to see me, but she didn't jump or give any indication that my cause for hesitance had come true. Sighing silently as my shoulders slumped and my hands found themselves traveling through my hair, the relieved frown on my face set as I suddenly became aware of tiny, chirping noises echoing through the silence.

Looking up, I found numerous canaries—puny, yellow, almost sweet things—flitting around before Hermione and me, calling out and staying close to each other just as the brilliant witch beside me and I did in times of trouble. Finally chancing a glance at Hermione's undoubtedly broken face, I swear my heart plummeted into the very pit of my stomach.

Tears streaked the seventeen-year-old's visage, red and blotchy from all of the pent-up emotion being released at last, and I cringed decidedly as more of the heartbreaking cries erupted from her constricted throat. I watched as she put the palm of one of her hands over her partially closed eyes and bawled until I couldn't take anymore; the sounds were just too painful for someone as undeserving and beautiful as my best friend.

Taking a hasty seat next to her on the teacher's desk where she was sitting, I put my arm slowly around her shoulders, allowing her frighteningly complying form to mold against my shoulder, torso, and neck as she leaned into me. Burying her face into my shoulder to muffle her blubbers, her irregular, heated breath from her open mouth through my shirt sent involuntary shivers down my spine.

I held her tighter, my arm moving to grasp her waist comfortingly and protectively as she began to try to talk through her tears; yet, all that came out was many a vulnerable whimper. Giving up, she cried until she could gather herself with slight dignity, wiping her soaking eyes and face with the back of her sleeve.

I noticed her look down at her shirt—her spirited, lion-crested shirt—and bite her lip as further tears entered her eyes. Carefully tilting her chin upward for her eyes to meet mine with a gentle, two-fingered gesture, I looked at her. I didn't glare, didn't express pity; I just _looked_. And yet, she knew what I was thinking the whole time.

Dissolving into relieved tears at finally knowing someone supported her through this whole mess of hormones and confusion, someone she trusted and loved and for whom she would die, I leaned forward and kissed her head through her hair. I hadn't meant to make her cry, but I was glad these were happy tears rather than what they'd been before.

Suddenly, the classroom's double doors burst open, and the gaily laughing couple of Ron and Lavender waltzed in amongst us. Seeing Hermione's shattered state and my not-the-time-for-nonsense one, the Brown girl's smile fell from her face, and she muttered something to Ron about leaving as she pulled on his arm. Perhaps the girl wasn't as stupid and heartless as I'd thought…

Yet, her stupid and heartless other half chose to ignore her. This was my best friend, yes, but I couldn't help but hate him, if only for this tense moment, for all he'd done to cause our best friend this much emotional pain. How could he do this and not feel like wanting to vomit? That was what seeing Hermione like this made _me_ want to do, at least. Then again, the poor boy always had been impossibly dense, particularly when it came to girls…

I was startled when Hermione sprang to her feet beside me, her face very red once again; Ron had said something before her drastic mood change, but I hadn't caught it because I had been so lost in thought. I was paying attention now, though, and I was thanking my lucky stars I wasn't Ron at the moment. Hermione looked livid, like she very much wanted to do some damage that would last a few days…or weeks…or months…

I was right, much to our red-haired friend's distress, for right then, she called out a spell that sent the small, previously assumed harmless canaries hurtling toward Ron. He ran for the door, but they only followed, gaining speed even as he dove for the safety beyond the wooden, enter-exit barricade. The results of magic were reduced to splatters of yellow feathers as they made contact with the door, and the room fell silent.

I rose to meet Hermione as her newly restarted sobs wracked her form, and I fell along with her as her knees gave out, assuring she was set down softly as we came to rest upon the floor in front of the desk this time. I rubbed her arm in comfort as she folded into me completely, clutching my arm with both of hers as her head buried itself in my chest and she practically sat in my lap.

I didn't mind when my legs and arm fell asleep before going numb or when her tears drenched the whole front of my shirt and continued on from there. She needed me, and I wouldn't be leaving her for the world.

In the quiet, even her shaky, barely comprehensible voice made me jump. She wasn't looking at me, but I could feel the earnest need for an answer in her tense muscles. She didn't need to ask me to be honest; she knew I was a terrible liar, particularly with her.

"How does it feel, Harry? When you see Dean with Ginny?" That threw me for a loop. Here we were, not saying a word for hours while she cries over Ron's insensitivity, and she asks about how I feel when I see my best mate's little sister with her boyfriend?!

While it was no secret to any—mainly the Gryffindor boy population—that the youngest, only female Weasley had gotten increasingly attractive over the summer and during this year, I had only acted under peer pressure with her. I had never been _attracted _to her; I'd only overheard her girl friends say she was attracted to me.

Anyway, it wasn't like I could have ignored her, what with Ron being overprotective and around her all the time and everything; if Ginny was there, Ron was, too, and that's all there was to it. If I started avoiding her, then I'd have to start avoiding Ron, and where would that land us?!

_Perhaps in a better situation than where we are now? _my mind questioned, and a frown marred my features as I grumbled a rude hushing. Hermione heard me, however, and let go of my arm in her shock. Fumbling with how to fix this quickly, I spoke.

"No, Hermione, not you. Sorry. It was something I thought; you were fine, honestly." Sighing, I braced myself. Now, to answer her question; I didn't know what to say, after all. Yet, as Hermione relaxed in my grip again, I was given the inspiration I needed. I opened my mouth, but hesitated.

"Go on, Harry." Laughing, I caressed her hair as she yawned slightly and adjusted her position to rest most of her upper body in my lap and curl up her legs to brush against my thigh. I knew she was listening, even with her eyes closed and breathing becoming easier.

"Well…Hermione, I never really liked her," She started a bit, grabbing my pant leg in exasperation, her eyes scrunching up as if to ask if I was certain. Tenderly laying the hand not smoothing her hair on the one of hers that desired to tear a hole in my jeans, I smiled warmly and continued when she calmed. "Everyone just thought I liked her because I hung around her so much. Really, though, I was only with her because Ron wouldn't leave her side for a second. I couldn't just avoid her. If I did, I'd have Ron thinking I was avoiding him, and we both know I wouldn't do that without…a good reason," We both knew what this 'reason' might be, but neither of us could bring ourselves to say it without much gagging and the reopening of fresh wounds. "So, I really had no choice but to be with her as well as Ron, and then, she started getting all weird and close and clingy…" I shuddered. With a half-humorous, half-serious laugh, I said, "In all honesty, Hermione…I _don't _like her."

Glancing down, as my head had been propped up by the desk's wood front and I'd been staring blankly at the opposite wall throughout most of my monologue, I was astonished to find a positively radiant Hermione beaming at me. Surprised, I reeled back and knocked my head against the hard desk. Reaching back to clutch it, I knocked one of my hands on the extremely low desk's edge and cried out softly, bringing it down to suck on the tender flesh a bit.

However, I was never given the chance, as Hermione was out of my lap and on her knees in front of me in less than a second. Taking my hand in both of her own, she rubbed the sore spot firmly, yet gently, and I was none too surprised to find it started hurting less almost immediately, after the split pain of the initial kneading faded. I instantly moved to follow instructions when she told me to do the same for my head with my free hand, smiling admiringly. Leave it to Hermione to know exactly what to do in even the most minor medical situations, magical or not.

When the insignificant pain had gone, we did not move from our quite comfortable seating arrangements right away. We had not noticed until this moment how at ease we were in each other's presence, always had been; well, at least, I hadn't, but that was expected. Hermione reported she'd noticed it long ago, had known for a long time… It was the way she'd said it, though, with such a wistful quality to her voice that really got me thinking.

"Hermione…why were you smiling like that earlier?" She peered down at her hands in her lap and knitted her eyebrows together, biting her lip again lightly. When she finally directed her eyes to mine, I was speechless at the waves of emotion I found there.

"I…It's hard to explain, really. I was—please don't get mad at me for saying this, Harry—I was afraid that if you started liking Ginny…Ron would start fourth year all over," Sensing my immense perplexity, she elaborated. "See, with Ron being so protective of Ginny these days, going along with that superstitious rule that a boy should never date his best mate's sister for fear of ruining the boys' friendship—"

"You thought we wouldn't speak to each other for months and perhaps never see eye-to-eye again, never make up. You didn't want our friendship to end…" Her eyes shone with relief that I understood, and I picked up on something else, perhaps the most important thing of all. "Because you knew how much losing him would crush me."

She nodded; answered, "Yes"; and I swear, she glowed with the light of a thousand angels.

This girl, this seventeen-year-old, brilliant, beautiful, loving girl, cared more about what losing my best friend of six years would do to me than keeping her own friendship with said companion. But…

"Is that why you were crying, then? Over—over me?" Guilt crashed all around me, threatened to smash my ever-fragile heart into a million pieces, and I felt a distinct sensation of not being able to breathe. Out of the blue, warm, strong hands clutched my own, and I gasped for air as I was brought back to reality with a whacking sound and a frightened cry of my name.

A sting came to one of my cheeks as I broke free of the daunting "waters", and I struggled to regain control of my breathing by staring at a frazzled Hermione, whose hair was even more disheveled than I recalled from just five seconds ago. Eyes clear and gleaming with fearful charge, her expression was a combination of seriousness and panic. Her hands were sweaty as they held mine, but I didn't dare let go; she was my lifeline, and I didn't feel like drowning again.

Her voice was light and breathy, gentle and consoling when her words fell from her mouth.

"Yes, I cried, but not over you in the way you're thinking. With Lavender keeping Ron busy, he wouldn't be able to keep Ginny away from you, and I've seen how she's been with you lately. I knew she would further her efforts to spend more and more time with you, and if Ron ever saw or heard of what everyone else thought was going on between you two— Well…that's when the repeat of fourth year would have started."

I was amazed. She had thought everything through, hadn't she? Every last, little detail had been checked off and stored away in that fantastic brain of hers, hadn't it? She must have seen the way I stared at her, for she ducked her head shyly and blushed brightly. Even so, I could tell just from the slightest, barely visible downturn of her lips that some doubt lingered, indubitably questioning whether I was mad at her for assuming such horrid, yet probably none too faulty things about Ron and Ginny.

Tilting up her chin once more after feeling confident enough to resurrect one of my hands from her unwavering grip, I gazed into her eyes and spoke as carefully to her as she had to me moments prior.

"Why would I be angry when you were only looking out for me, and even for Ron? It just reinforces the fact that I know how far you'd go for me, how much you care for me. It mirrors how much I, in turn, care for you."

She smiled beautifully, eyes dancing, and leapt forward without warning, throwing her arms around my neck while I had just enough time to capture her waist in my arms and prevent us from crashing backward into the desk again. I settled us back comfortably against the furniture instead, and I reveled in the feeling of having this dazzling woman in my arms.

There was always something good to say about Hermione. While she could get a tad bossy or hysterical at times, it was either because she was overworked or over-worried or both, whatever the circumstance required, and no matter what, it was always for the good of whomever she was nagging—mostly Ron or me.

She had matured quite prettily over the years, growing into her previously buck teeth and slightly curvier body, and her bushy hair appeared to be getting tamer as time went on at its usual pace. Her eyes and smile had certainly gotten more expressive and lovely, I'd noticed.

Merlin _knew _she was beastly intelligent and witty; occasionally outspoken and unafraid of what others thought; vivacious and tolerably intense at the same time; friendly, loving, hard-working, loyal, selfless, kind—honestly, there was _nothing _about this girl I despised! Not _one, single thing_!

A sort of strange, yet wonderful peace fell over me, totally eclipsed my heart in that one moment, and I felt tears spring to my eyes.

_This _was why I'd been so worried about her, had always been so worried about her; _this _was why I cared what she thought of me, why she was my conscience in absolutely everything I did; _this _was why my past relationship with Cho Chang never worked and why one with Ginny Weasley never would; _this _was why I couldn't bear to think of my life without her for even a second or less—

I loved her.

_I loved her_…

Seeing as she was still in my arms, I tightened my hold on her and buried my head in her shoulder. Upon feeling the hot tears saturate her shirt and moisten her skin, she clasped me tighter as well as tears fled from her own eyes.

It had taken all these years to recognize it, all those agonizing hints and nudges that had just flown over my head. Had I really been that dense? Yes, I decided, for this was what our relationship had always been: maturely mutual respect and unbound, unrealized love.

Until now.

Now, that love was conscious and real, true and right in all ways possible.

In this way, we were united and strong against any and all threats;

In this way, we were fierce and loyal;

In this way, we were kind and loving;

In this way, we were ourselves above all else;

In this way, we were love—

And, we knew it.

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_A/N: _lol. After reading through part of this, I just realized the 'drowning' part most likely came from a subconscious remembrance of the book I just finished for Honors English, _Very Far Away From Anywhere Else _by Ursula K. LeGuin. It's actually a very good book, and for anyone else who's read the book, you hopefully know about what the heck I'm droning. XD Again, there was NO Weasley bashing intended here, and even though I'm not particularly fond of the youngest Weasleys, I meant them no harm in this fic!

_A/N: _Just for clarification, when Harry says she's crying over her crush at the beginning, that's when he doesn't know the real reason. So, Hermione's crush on Ron *gags- sorry to those who like it! ...Why are you here?* doesn't exist for this fic, okay? lol.

_A/N_: Oh, yeah, and there was a tiny shout-out to an H/Hr site called, 'Total Eclipse of the Heart'! Did anyone catch it? There may have been more shout-outs than that, but as it's very nearly 6 AM, I don't really care enough to go looking. lol. Morning, everybody (Translation: I'm going to bed for four hours... Yay...)!


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